


Numb

by sarahjacobs



Category: Newsies (1992), Newsies - All Media Types, Newsies!: the Musical - Fierstein/Menken
Genre: Implied Sexual Content, M/M, This Is Sad, and dramatic, im sorry, spots in love
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-13
Updated: 2017-12-22
Packaged: 2019-02-14 04:56:09
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 1,835
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13000323
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sarahjacobs/pseuds/sarahjacobs
Summary: When Spot met Race, he no longer felt numb.





	1. Chapter 1

Spot tried to catch his breath as he lay on the bed. He placed his arm over his eyes and took a deep breath, his heart pounding in his chest. No feelings attached, that was the deal. Just sex and nothing more. But Spot wanted so much more, he wanted so much more that it hurt.

Spot turned on his side to stare at Racetrack. He was also lying on his side with his eyes closed, but Spot knew he wasn't sleeping. In a moment, Race would get up and get dressed. In a moment, Spot would watch him dress and leave. They wouldn't say goodbye and Spot wouldn't ask him to stay, even though he desperately wanted to. They would go back to being best friends and acting like none of this ever happened.

Spot shouldn't continue doing it, it was unhealthy because to Spot it meant everything and to Race it meant nothing. But how would Spot tell Race? Would he lie and make up an excuse as to why he didn't want this anymore? Would he tell the truth, would he spill his feelings and pray to God that maybe Race felt the same?

Spot reached out a shaky hand and barely brushed his fingers against Race's cheek. The blonde boy didn't stir. Spot smiled to himself and admired just how beautiful Racetrack truly was. Spot traced over the freckles on Race's face, chest and arms. Again, the boy didn't stir, maybe he was actually sleeping. Spot reached out his hand one last time and ran his fingers through Race's slightly sweaty curls.

"I love you," Spot mumbled.

This time Race stirred. He blinked for a moment before sitting up and staring at Spot, "Wha'?"

Spot flushed, looking anywhere but Race, "Nothing."

"No, you said—" Race paused and Spot swore his heart stopped. Race got up quickly and began dressing.

"Racer—" Spot says but the boy doesn't slow down.

Race takes a deep breath and doesn't turn to look at Spot, "You love me?"

Spot sits there unsure of how to respond. Spot fiddled with the quilt on his bed instead of responding.

"That wasn't part of the deal!" Race nearly shouted and Spot flinched. He watched Race tug at his hair. "No feelings! Sean, how long..."

"Race...I didn't, I'm not!" Spot tried to explain himself but couldn't find the right words. His throat was burning and his chest felt like someone was sitting on it. He had trouble catching his breath as Race grabs his coat and heads towards the door.

"Race!" Spot chokes out, "Hold on!" Spot grabs a pair of sweatpants and reached for his glasses before following after him. "Please, Tony!"

Race doesn't listen as he opens the door and steps out into the cold. "Racer," Spot pleads one last time but the boy pays no attention as he rushed off. Spot glares after him, "Yeah? Well fuck you, Tony! Fuck you, you fucking—"  
Spot stops and stomps back into the warmth of the apartment and slams the door behind him.

Spot locks the door behind and storms to his room, kicking and knocking things over on his way. He sits at the edge of his bed and tugs at his hair angrily, cursing himself for letting it slip. Spot took shaky breaths as his eyes filled with tears. He wouldn't cry, not over Racetrack. Spot's glasses began to smear and he hastily wiped at his eyes. No he would not cry, he would not...

"Shit!" Spot laughs and tugs at his hair once more. He pressed his palms to his eyes and laughed again as more and more tears fell down his face. His chest was heavy and it was getting harder and harder for him to breath. Spot laid back, keeping his hands over his eyes and cried until he grew tired. He yawned and decided to get underneath the covers. Tears wet his pillow but he refused to move it or roll to the other side.

Spot tried to think of things that made him happy like: Jack, David, Crutchie, all his friends, Brooklyn, dogs, Medda. None of it worked.

When Spot couldn’t cry anymore he stared up at the ceiling. He felt numb. Not numb like when you were drunk or high, but just numb. Like nothing mattered, like you didn’t matter. It was like Spot could disappear and no one would care. Numb, it was a feeling Spot was used to. Although, Spot hadn’t felt it as much as he used to since he met Race. Now Race was gone and the feeling of hopelessness returned.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Seven days.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> um it was going to be happy? Idk what? Happened?

Seven days. Seven days since Spot had seen Race. Seven days since Spot talked to Race. Seven days since Race left Spot. Seven days since Spot felt something other then numb.

He rolled from his side onto his back, staring at the ceiling. It had been a week since he actually left his room. Spot was positive that because of that decision his little plants had died, maybe Jack watered them for him.

Jack had tried to talk to Spot but he continued to ignore him. And when that didn’t work Jack sent Sarah to talk to Spot, that didn’t work either. They knew it was about Race, that much they figured out. Eventually they stopped asking him and left him to tell them on his own. As if Spot would ever tell them that he was fucking his best friend and along the way caught feelings. Spot Conlon doesn’t catch feelings. But he did and it ended badly, just like Spot knew it would.

Now Jack only bothered him to give him breakfast, lunch and dinner. Spot was never really hungry, but he took a few bites from each just to keep Jack from annoying him too much.

Maybe he was being a bit ridiculous, Race was just a boy. Spot scoffed. Race wasn’t just a boy. Race is what kept Spot grounded, he was the reason Spot wasn’t in jail or dead somewhere. He kept Spot from fighting, kept him from getting in trouble with cops. He made Spot feel alive. Spot scoffed again, feeling stupid that a boy could change his life in the smallest way.

Spot pulled the blanket up to his chin when he heard shouting in the living room. He listened carefully to what they saying.

“What the fuck!” He heard Jack shout.

“Jack—” That was Race’s voice. Spot froze and felt his pulse rise.

“What the fuck did you do!” Jack yelled.

Spot can only imagine the way it looks. Jack’s probably clenching and unclenching his fists at his sides, his face red. Race is probably standing there with his hands in his pockets, staring at his shoes.

“I didn’t do anything!” Race replies.

Spot laughs.

“You did something!” Jack says and his voice is calmer than before.

 _He got that from Medda_ , Spot thinks.

“Spot hasn’t moved in at least a week. He barely eats, hasn’t changed, showered. He won’t talk to me,” Jack voice is dangerously calm. “He won’t talk to Sarah.”

“Just…let me,” Race begins but Jack cuts him off. Spot couldn’t hear what Jack said. He hears footsteps grow closer to his bedroom and he rolled onto his side. There was a knock but Spot didn’t respond.

He waited and finally the door opened. Spot listened carefully to the footsteps as they approached his bed, they weren’t Jack’s.

“Sean,” Race said quietly, “Are you sleeping?”

 _No I haven’t slept in days_. “Antonio,” He said instead.

Race took that as a sign to sit on the edge of the bed. They didn’t talk for a long time.

“Sean,” Race finally begins, “I’m sorry.”

“For what?” Spot asks.

“For…” Race pauses, “You know leaving, kind of yelling…ignoring you. I just, God, I’m sorry. I still want to be your friend, though. You’re my best friend, Spot.”

“Okay.”

“Okay?” Race asks him, standing up from his position on the bed.

“Yeah, okay,” Spot repeats, still lying on his side and refusing to look over at Race.

“Well…uh, I’m sorry.”

“You don’t really have anything to be sorry for,” Spot shrugs, “You don’t like me, simple. Don’t apologize for your feelings.”

“But—” Race starts but stops. “…but you didn’t say you liked me, you said you love me.”

“Loved.”

“Loved?”

“Yeah, I loved you. Past tense,” Spot lies staring at a blank spot on his wall.

“Past tense.”

“Are you going to keep repeating whatever I say?” Spot asks finally rolling over to stare at Race. Spot pretended not to notice how his breath caught in his throat when seeing him. “Yes, past tense. Why would I stay caught up on some guy who doesn’t love me back? Not a big deal—”

“Then why haven’t you done anything since…” Race trails off.

“Oh, that’s just the depression, let me give it a call and ask it to go away.”

“That’s not funny, Sean,” Race says seriously.

“I never said it was,” Spot sits up.

“You can’t get over someone that fast,” Race tells him.

“Well I did and you’re pretty easy to get over, really,” Spot informs him.

“Why are you making this difficult?” Race asks angrily. “I said I was sorry! Can’t you just forgive me? Can’t we let things go back to normal? Forget everything that happened?”

Spot blinks at him a few times. “Maybe I don’t want to.”

Race stares at him blankly this time, “You’re being over dramatic.”

“Am I?”

Race nods.

“Well,” Spot wasn’t actually sure what to say. He just wanted Race to leave so Spot could go back to hiding and sleep. “Well…well…”

“Well?” Race mocks.

“Fuck you!”

Race snorts, “You already did!”

Spot stands up quickly, shoving Race backwards. “It’s not like you didn’t want it either!”

Race shoves him harder, causing Spot to bump into his nightstand, making a picture fall off the side.

“I don’t know why I even loved you!” Spot tells him.

They stand staring at each other for a long time. Finally, Race turns on his heel and leaves, slamming the door behind him. This time, though, Spot doesn’t follow after him.

He stares at the picture on the floor, it was of him and Race. They were poking fun at how Sarah and Katherine took pictures, not knowing that David was actually taking pictures of them. They stood with their hands clasped, one foot in the air and large cheesy smiles on their faces. It was stupid for him to keep it but he couldn’t get himself to throw it away. Even now as he stared at it, anger welling in his chest, he couldn’t get himself to toss it. Instead he left it lying there.

He grabbed a fresh pair of sweats and a clean tank top, deciding to take a shower.

Afterwards, he then decided to go to the kitchen to make dinner for him and Jack.

“You okay?” Jack asks him carefully.

“Fine,” Spot replies.

 _Numb_ , he thinks.

**Author's Note:**

> I had 3 days off of school and did absolutely nothing. Not sure what this was but anyways I’m sad lmao


End file.
